


Wants & Needs

by moonintheknight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonintheknight/pseuds/moonintheknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally he welcomed the occasional reprieve, the chance to work alone, but tonight he found he desperately needed a voice in his ear other than his own. Batman can't stop thinking about a certain former sidekick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heat of Summer

It’s warm.

He always hated it when it was too hot. Most of his colleagues enjoyed working in more temperate climates, but he always preferred the colder months, the biting chill of winter that kept him alert and vigilant during patrol. His suit, of course, was temperature controlled, but the thick humidity that clung in the air even in the dead of night made the whole city languid. This evening, crime had slowed to a crawl.

He didn’t like it this way. Especially not tonight. 

He was alone on the rooftops. His partner, Robin—Tim—was busy with the Teen Titans, and would be back in a day or two. Normally he welcomed the occasional reprieve, the chance to work alone, but tonight he found he desperately needed a voice in his ear other than his own. The relative lack of activity from Gotham’s criminals was irritating, too. He was alone with his thoughts.

_He’s here. You need to see him again._

No. 

_It’s been months. You want to see him again._

Once was enough.

_He knows something’s wrong. He always does._

It doesn’t matter.

_He’ll want to talk to you at some point. You’re his family._

He won’t care. He’s here for Tim. Alfred. Barbara.

_But you want to see him._

I don’t.

_You want to see him._

I can’t.

_You want him._

A siren wailed in the distance. He shot his head up and immediately noticed a loud gunshot and screams coming from about fifteen blocks away. Careless, he thought, and quickly grappled across the rooftops towards the scene.

He was downtown, and there was an ongoing brawl outside Club Marquis. Owned and frequented by the Dimitrov crime family, it was one of the more notorious and dangerous clubs in Gotham. He watched as the twenty-odd gangbangers spilled out onto the street and three cop cars surrounded the fight. The officers emerged, guns drawn. Time to neutralize the situation before innocents got hurt.

Just the distraction he needed.

Quickly and silently he descended onto the fight, taking out three men instantly with a powerful gliding kick and immediately smashing his fist into the jaw of another. He could hear teeth crack and bones shatter as the man crumpled to the ground, but he was already onto his next target. 

Blood roaring in his ears, he viciously pummeled one after another, preferring to use his fists and feet instead of the fully stocked utility belt he sported. The warm, sticky summer air filled his nose and lungs as he sent a man flying ten feet with a brutal kick to the chest. He was being rough tonight, he knew, but he needed this. He needed this release now.

Men were running from the fight now, running from him. No matter how many time they shot at him, or stabbed at him, or lunged at him, he was faster. Stronger. More efficient. Soon bodies littered the ground, and all the rest were fleeing. Not acceptable. For the first time since he descended, he reached for his grappling hook and subdued some would-be escapees, while the cops corralled the rest. 

Except one man. The cops had seemingly missed him. He saw the man sprint quickly down a side alley and out of sight.

The officers turned to look at him, opened their mouths to speak. Maybe to offer their thanks, or maybe their disapproval at his force. He didn’t much care tonight. He grappled off towards the alley. 

A quick scan showed the gangbanger wasn’t there. He checked the side streets, and then the next alley over. No luck. He cursed himself. Sloppy, careless –

“Missing something?”

He shot his head up. There on the rooftop above him was the runaway, out cold and securely tied. And standing above the escapee, peering over the ledge…

Was him.

Nightwing.

He grappled to the rooftop silently and stood on the ledge. Nightwing smirked.

“This belongs to you, right? Thought he might, he had kind of a freaked out look, knew you must have been in the area—”

“What are you doing here?” he interrupted.

“Helping you take care of—”

“What are you doing here.”

It wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Oh come on, Batman,” Nightwing said, still smiling lightly. “I’m in Gotham for only a few days. You don’t really think—”

“Yes, I do think,” he snarled. “I give you an order and you listen to it. You were to stay off the streets and out of my way tonight. You’re not in New York or Bludhaven. You answer to me here.”

Nightwing stared at him, a confused expression on his face. His smile was gone, and Batman realized he had stepped closer to the younger man while he had been talking. They eyed each other warily for a few moments.

“…Okay,” Nightwing said finally, softly. “Okay. Fair enough.” 

His chest clenched. He had been too severe.

Nightwing turned and squatted down to tighten the ties on the runaway, and Batman couldn’t help but look, really notice the young man in front of him. He saw his lower arm muscles tightening as he bound the man’s hands, the curve of his back through the spandex, the definition in his legs and thighs, The soft, tan skin exposed on the back of his neck. 

He shouldn’t be noticing things like this.

Nightwing stood up and looked at him again. 

“Pretty hot, isn’t it? Anyway, I can take this trash out for you and then I’ll get out of your hair, I promise,” he smiled again, that beaming, brilliant smile.

Batman just nodded.

Nightwing hauled the man up over his shoulder and gave him a little salute and a “see ya,” and was gone. 

He watched him leave, an aching want and a rising panic swirling, battling in his chest.  
 _You know what this means. You know what you need._

I can’t. I can’t need this.

_You’ve needed it for a long time._

I haven’t.

_You need a release. This will only get worse, in time._

It won’t work this way. 

_It could. He could want it too._

I…he won’t. I can’t do this to him.

_He would do anything for you._

Not this. Even he can’t understand this.

_Are you sure?_

…It will break us.

_You’ve needed this._

…

_You need this._

_You need him._


	2. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce reflects on how it all started.

How many years had Bruce Wayne desired Richard Grayson?

Did he even know?

It definitely hadn’t started that way, in the beginning.

In the beginning, there was that night at the circus, a night that neither of them would ever forget. Bruce had always felt alone with his inner desperation, his anger at the crime that had taken his own parents away from him. So it was both familiar and heartbreaking when he saw that same look on young Dick’s face that night at the circus. The boy that looked so much like him, with that lost look on his angelic face. 

Bruce knew he had to do something.

Soon Dick was living with Alfred and him at the manor, and shortly after he got justice for his parents’ deaths and became Robin. Soon it was like a light had suddenly turned on in all of their lives. There was finally laughter that filled the empty halls and echoed in the Cave. Batman, who before had been much more violent and much less cautious, suddenly had his Robin to look after. 

The smiling, leaping, laughing boy helped him every night. _Saved_ him every night. Made him more thoughtful and efficient. The pair was a well-oiled machine, the bright, chatty, slightly obnoxious light and the dark, silent knight. Even outside of the uniform the two were an inseparable pair. 

Father and son. 

Brothers. 

Friends.

Those first few uncomplicated years were the best. It was only a few years later when Bruce started to…notice him. When the problems began.

*

The Incident occurred when the boy was sixteen. The two had come home from patrol separately—Robin had left to clean up after a particularly messy fight with Clayface while Batman stayed to talk briefly with Commissioner Gordon. He arrived at the Batcave presumably about a half hour after his ward, immediately stripped down to his underwear, and headed towards the showers.

Their ‘locker room’ contained four private shower stalls and a faced a long mirror and row of sinks. When he opened the door to the room it was already steamy and muggy, and Bruce could hear the shower running and see steam pouring out of the stall closest to the door, obviously occupied by Dick.

He opened his mouth to inform Dick of his presence when he heard it.

A moan.

He stopped still in his tracks. Was his ward hurt? He started to speak to make sure Dick was all right when—

“Oh, _God_.”

That wasn’t a moan of pain. Not at all. Realizing that his surrogate son was jacking off in the shower, Bruce froze in his tracks, stunned. Clearly the boy hadn’t heard him come in. 

Dick let out another breathy gasp.

Crippled by awkwardness and unsure of whether to make his presence known or leave and come back later, Bruce stayed rooted to the spot.

The boy’s soft groans were becoming more frequent now. Bruce found himself noticing how erotic the boy sounded, how utterly unguarded, completely consumed in his pleasure. _Of course he is,_ Bruce thought. _He thinks he’s alone._

The light smacking noises that Bruce hadn’t really noticed earlier were becoming louder now, faster. The moans more urgent, the breathing hitched—

Bruce left the bathroom as quietly and quickly as he could. He didn’t need to hear the boy finish, for God’s sake. What was Dick _thinking,_ masturbating in their locker room? He or Alfred could have walked in at any moment! And what was _he_ thinking, standing there, listening? When did he become so perverted?

The moans, though…Dick had sounded so mature, so _adult_. He had never really heard another man—no, he’s a _boy_ —sound so sensual before. The way Dick’s voice had echoed softly and lazily around the room…the wet, rhythmic slapping sounds his hand was making around his cock…

Bruce stopped his train of thought abruptly and looked down. _Shit._

He was half hard.

This was clearly an unacceptable situation. Still in his boxer-briefs, Bruce strode over to a chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _Your body is just having a natural reaction. Calm your mind. Now._

_Everyone always says how beautiful he is, how charming he is._

_Are you just now noticing?_

Ten minutes later Bruce was still uncomfortable, dirty, and sweaty, trying to wait for Dick to leave the cave before he showered. He was furiously typing a case report when the boy finally emerged. 

“Oh, hey big guy! How’d everything go with Gordon?” Dick called over to him, and Bruce threw a quick glance his way. His ward was chugging a bottled water and wore a pair of low-slung sweatpants with no shirt. In his free hand he held his towel.

Bruce stared fixedly at his computer screen. “Fine.”

“That’s good!” came the cheerful reply, and the boy was at his side. Bruce could smell the clean, citrusy soap he used. “Did they ship ol’ Basil off to Blackgate, then? They should know by now that Arkham’s no good with him.”

“Gordon’s taking care of it.” Bruce’s eyes were starting to hurt from how hard he was focusing on the screen. He silently chided himself for not even giving Dick the courtesy of looking at him, and made up his mind to just reprimand the boy. It would be embarrassing, yes, but it needed to be done, and— 

“Are you ok?” Dick suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning against the desk. “You seem a little out of it. You should get that gunk from Clayface off of you.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell Dick just _why_ he hadn’t gotten to take a shower yet, but the words died on his lips when he met the boy’s concerned, confused gaze.

He drank the boy’s face in. He couldn’t help it. He saw the clear blue eyes, the lightly tanned skin, and the still-wet, luxurious hair. He also couldn’t help but notice the baby fat in the boy’s face was almost gone (since when?), and in its place a sharper jaw line that was scattered with very light stubble.

“You need to shave,” Bruce spoke before he could think otherwise.

“What?” Dick looked taken aback, then laughed. “So do you!”

Bruce brought a hand up to his chin, rubbed it absentmindedly. “I guess.”

“You always do, boss. Hey, have you ever thought about growing it out? You know, a mountain-man kind of look? You could pull it off, I think…”

Dick chattered on, still standing between Bruce and the computer, and Bruce took that opportunity to examine his ward some more. His bicep, pectoral, and abdominal muscles were becoming more defined and pronounced. The skin still looked soft, but faint black hairs lay on his chest, his arms, and below his navel. His Robin was growing up, becoming a man, and Bruce wondered if he knew how many women—how many people—were going to go crazy over him. The thought made him uneasy. 

As Dick blabbered, large droplets of water continued to fall from his hair down his neck and back. Distracting. Not to mention he was dripping water all over the floor.

“Give me that,” Bruce murmured suddenly, and grabbed the towel from Dick’s hand. He stood quickly and started rubbing it through Dick’s hair briskly yet carefully.

“Hey!” came the confused, muffled voice from beneath the towel, but Bruce shushed him.

“You have to do these things right, Dick,” he growled sternly. “You know I don’t care for laziness.”

“I do it fine—” 

“Shh.”

Dick fell silent. The clean apple smell of his shampoo wafted up towards Bruce, and he was reminded anew of the shower, and what Dick had been doing, and the noises he had been making.

Finished drying the boy’s hair, he briefly toweled his neck and shoulders, and Dick looked up at him from underneath dark lashes, his lips parted slightly. Dick had smoky, long lashes, much like a woman’s. The eye contact made Bruce slow his movements. There was still confusion in those eyes, but also contentment and…affection? 

They were standing very close, Bruce realized, between his chair and the desk. Dick’s breath was tickling Bruce’s throat. Bruce stopped his movements all together and let out a low sigh, and allowed himself to lightly graze the stubble on the boy’s jaw with his thumb.

“Promise me you’ll shave,” he said in a low voice, grabbing the towel from around Dick’s neck. He turned around, heading towards the shower. He needed space, and he needed it now. 

“Whatever you say,” came Dick’s unsure voice from behind him. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Goodnight,” Bruce replied with finality, and strode into the shower room.

He stripped off his clothes and looked down.

He was half-hard again.

_Shit._

*  
Nothing was easy after that. In fact, when Dick turned eighteen, it was much worse.

Soon Bruce and Dick were butting heads regularly and with increasing resentment. Dick was angry about Bruce’s restrictions on where he could go and what he could do. His methods. His _rage_. Dick was afraid that the darkness that so consumed Bruce would spread to him, too, and the pair constantly bickered over how best to approach fighting crime.

Bruce was angry, too. Not only did his partner question his motives continually, but also Dick was spending more and more time with the Teen Titans, while his loyalties should have been to Gotham.

To _him_.

All the while, Bruce was worried—scared, even—to speak openly to Dick. And so their communication suffered greatly. Ever since that night in the showers, Bruce had been constantly watching his ward. Thinking about him. Dreaming, even.

Fantasizing. About his surrogate _son_. 

In his darkest moments, whether it was in the showers late at night, on a solitary patrol, or alone in his bed, Bruce thought about what it would be like. What he could do to Dick.

He thought about kissing him, dominating Dick’s mouth with his tongue. About biting the smooth, tanned skin on his neck and listening to him whimper. About touching and caressing those young, lean muscles that had so fascinated him. 

He wanted Dick to look up at him with want and desire. Up from beneath those smoky, sultry lashes.

Mostly, though, he wanted to make the boy cry out like he had in the shower. Bruce wanted to do things to him that he had never considered with any man before. Wanted to stroke him, _suck_ him. Wanted to make him moan his name as he fucked him.

His boy.

_His._

Eventually, though, Bruce would come to his senses and be thoroughly disgusted with himself. Dick was leading his own life now. Bruce knew Dick had a few girlfriends and went on a few dates, and he was horrified to find that he was actually a little jealous. He was terrified, deeply and truly, of these thoughts, and the fear that he would ever act on them consumed his mind. 

He kept contact with Dick to a brisk and gruff minimum, which only drove the two apart even more. Bruce slept with many women, each more beautiful and eager than the last, hoping that someone would keep his mind off the younger man who shared his home. He finally realized it would do him no good. 

He wanted Dick Grayson.

When the two finally reached an irreversible, final breaking point, and Dick left the Robin mantle for good, Bruce was devastated. But he was also relieved. 

From then on he kept his wards at more of a distance. First Jason, then Tim. It worked, but it didn’t matter anyway. After the first year of Dick’s absence there had been almost no contact, but as Dick became Nightwing and worked his way increasingly back into Bruce’s life, that feeling of dread returned.

The feeling of desire, which had never left Bruce, only grew stronger.


	3. The Wayne Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick discovers. Bruce dreams.

Dick sighed as he sunk further into the plush sofa and continued scrolling aimlessly through the thousands of channels on the television. It was pretty pointless, Dick thought, to try to find something entertaining to watch at 3:45 am, but he couldn’t go to sleep. He wasn’t even allowed to patrol, so what else was he supposed to do? 

After Batman had demanded he get off the streets, Dick had contemplated going to see Barbara again, but he figured she wouldn’t want to be distracted from her duties as Oracle. Besides, the two had seen each other just last night over dinner and drinks at her apartment. At first it was a little weird to try and be friends with his ex-girlfriend, but over time they had become each other’s closest confidants.

“How’s the day job going?” Barbara had asked as she spooned some baked ziti into her mouth. “Still liking your partner?”

“Yeah, Amy’s cool,” Dick replied, taking a sip of wine and wrinkling his nose. Red wine was not really his thing. “She’s a good cop, and we’re working well together so far. She’s real pretty, too,” he added, winking exaggeratedly at Barbara. 

“Ha ha. You already told me she’s married,” she rolled her eyes. “Speaking of relationships, how’s it going with your landlady? Clancy, right?”

“She’s awesome. We hang out every now and then, but I’m not really seeing her anymore…” Dick squinted at Barbara. “Wait. Didn’t I tell you about the lawyer?”

“Grayson!” Barbara laughed incredulously. “You barely have the time to sleep, let alone come visit Gotham, and yet somehow you manage to date half the women in Bludhaven?!”

“Well, first of all, the lawyer’s a _man,_ not a woman. Second of all, we haven’t really started dating. Yet. But we’ve had some, ah… _fun,”_ he added dramatically. Barbara just raised an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Was that supposed to shock me? Surely you can do better than that,” Barbara surveyed him over her wine glass. “But this is an interesting development. What’s this lawyer-man like?”

“Whaddya wanna know?” Dick started laundry listing, “His name’s Aaron, he works in the Bludhaven D.A.’s office, he’s in his mid-30’s, about 6’1, dark brown hair, a runner, nice apartment, has a cat, and I gotta say, he’s kind of reserved initially but man can he really—”

“Okay, okay, enough,” Barbara held up her hand, but she was still grinning. “Good for you, Dick. Glad to see you’re still sticking to your type. Do you think it’s gonna go anywhere?”

“I—wait, ‘my type?’” Dick laughed. “I don’t have a type, Babs.”

“Oh, yes you do,” Barbara insisted. “You have a type when you date men. The older, classically handsome, serious, intelligent, and financially successful type.”  
“Come on,” Dick scoffed, but somewhere in his head warning bells were going off. “I haven’t even been with that many guys, Babs, and it’s not a type.”

“Oh, really?” Dick did not like the Gotcha! smile she was directing at him. “Are you, Richard Grayson, denying the fact that you have a Wayne Kink?”

“A _what?!”_

Though Barbara may be one of his oldest and closest friends, Dick had never openly told _anybody_ about the embarrassing teenage crush he had on Bruce Wayne. Not only had they been partners, but also best friends, and Dick was convinced they would stay that way forever. During that time Bruce opened up more to Dick than he did to anyone else. Dick, for his part, had been absolutely infatuated with Bruce, and was eternally paranoid that his mentor would find out just how deep Dick’s love for him went. 

But things changed. Of course they did. Bruce became more and more resistant to Dick’s opinions and ideas, and Dick grew more restless and rebellious. After Dick left the sidekick game behind for the Titans, there was a point where he wondered if the two of them would ever be able to sit in the same room again without fighting, let alone be friends. 

Obviously things were now better between the pair, but they were nowhere near as close as they used to be. Dick was trying hard to reestablish a strong, loving bond, but he was pretty sure a good way to burn his efforts all to hell would be, even in jest, to bring up his painfully strong childhood crush. 

Or worse, his _Wayne Kink._

“Hey!” Barbara snapped her fingers in his face. “Anyone home?” 

Dick shook his head back and forth. “Sorry, zoned out. Must have been because you implied that I have a fetish for my surrogate father. My mistake.”

“Uh-huh,” Barbara snickered knowingly. “Deny it all you want, Dick, you know it’s true. Must be those adolescent fantasies resurfacing, huh?” 

Dick just stuffed a huge forkful of ziti in his mouth. _How the fuck does she know_ everything _? He fumed silently. He washed his food down with a swig of wine, glaring at Barbara as she beamed at him._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gordon,” he said finally. “Enough about me. What’s your love life been like lately?”

As Barbara launched into a tale about the latest man in her life, Dick tried his hardest to forget about his so-called “type.” There were enough issues already between Bruce and himself. He definitely didn’t need to add another. He vowed not to dwell on it.

*  
Not dwelling on it was harder than Dick thought.

At least, it was when he was still flicking through channels, unable to go to sleep, at 3:45—no, now 4—in the freaking morning. He finally settled on an old _CSI_ episode and tried to focus on it, but his mind kept wandering back to how gruff Batman had been with him earlier that night. Hell, he was only trying to help out, but The Batman wasn’t having any of it. Not that his attitude was anything new, of course, but it really frustrated him. 

And for that matter, Bruce had barely seen him at all this weekend, even though he knew how busy Dick was, how rarely he was afforded time off. Would it kill Bruce to spend some time with him every once in a while? Alfred had assured Dick that Bruce was very busy, but that seemed like a pretty weak excuse. Part of Dick just wanted to leave abruptly—it would certainly serve Bruce right, and it would be so easy to just hate on him out of spite. But the other part…

Dick knew he could never stay mad at Bruce for long. Whenever his mentor came out of the current funk he was in, he would be there for him. 

He stared at a picture on the side table next to the couch. It was of Bruce, Alfred and Dick on a camping trip, and his prepubescent self was staring up adoringly at his guardian. _Wayne Kink, he thought wryly._ My fifteen-year-old self certainly had Wayne Kink. 

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the screen again. A commercial for a phone sex line was playing, the music sounding as if it was straight from a cheesy 80’s porno. Dick reached for the remote to change the channel again when—

“You’re still up?”

It was Bruce. He was dressed in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of expensive-looking black drawstring velour sweatpants that were probably from Saks or something. His hair was damp, so he had clearly come from the shower and was apparently headed to bed. 

“Oh, yeah, couldn’t sleep.” Dick tried to sound offhand, but he was honestly still pretty annoyed. He turned halfway around on the couch to face Bruce, who was directly behind him. “Too much unused energy, I guess, not being on patrol,” he added, a slight edge in his voice. 

Bruce’s face darkened instantly, and for a split second Dick thought he was going to leave the room, but he didn’t. The two stared at each other for a moment, and Dick saw that his guardian looked extremely worn out. He felt his heart soften just a little.

“…But it’s okay. I get it,” Dick plastered a smile on his face. “‘Your city, your rules’ and all of that, so who am I to—”

“I’m sorry.”  
“Excuse me?” Dick wasn’t sure if he was hearing things, or what, because he though he just heard Bruce _apologize._

“I shouldn’t have been so short with you. I’m sorry,” Bruce moved closer to the couch and stared down at the younger man. Dick was an expert at reading facial expressions, but even an amateur could clearly see that Bruce was sincere. He hadn’t looked at his ward this intently in a long time. In fact, Bruce wasn’t really big on prolonged eye contact with him at all, so he must be serious.

“Really, it’s okay.” This time the smile that Dick gave Bruce was genuine. “No worries, boss.”

Bruce nodded seriously. “Good. Well,” he glanced towards the stairs. “I should get going to—”

“Come watch TV with me,” Dick blurted suddenly. Where did that come from?

Bruce just looked at him. 

“Seriously, sit!” he patted the couch cushion next to him enthusiastically. “We haven’t really gotten to see each other since I’ve been home, and to be honest you look like you need to relax.”

Dick was one hundred percent—no, one _thousand_ percent—sure that Bruce would say thanks, but no thanks and make his way upstairs. To his shock, however, Bruce paused, then nodded grimly and walked around the couch to sit next to him. He felt a small bubble of hope rise up in his chest as Bruce settled down awkwardly on the farthest possible cushion. 

“How was the rest of patrol?” Dick asked conversationally, turning to face Bruce head on. “Break up any more nasty bar fights?”

“That wasn’t really a bar fight, and it was fine. A slow night.” For a man who played Brucie Wayne: Playboy Extraordinaire so convincingly, it still amazed Dick how socially awkward Bruce could be. At times it was irritating, but right now Dick just found it an endearing quality. At least he was trying.

“That’s the funny thing about these muggy nights, yeah?” Dick mused. “It always seems to slow down a little out there.” He glanced back at the TV. He had never gotten around to changing the channel, and _CSI_ was back on.

“What are you watching?” Bruce asked, as if on cue.

“ _CSI._ You ever see it?” Bruce just raised an eyebrow at him, and Dick laughed. “I don’t know, it’s kind of cheesy, but there’s some forensics stuff that maybe you’d be into…”

Right as he said it, the show cut to one of its signature forensics montages accompanied by upbeat techno music. Dick quickly glanced at Bruce, who looked incredulous, then almost insulted as the montage progressed. 

“…This is completely inaccurate,” Bruce grumbled finally. “There is no possible way they could process all those DNA samples that quickly.” He turned to Dick, affronted. “That would take weeks!”

“But that would be way too boring,” Dick teased, gauging Bruce for a reaction. “They’ve gotta keep the pace going on the show.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bruce cast a dark look towards the screen. “How they even got that much evidence off of credit cards is ludicrous—” 

He cut off abruptly as Dick started laughing. 

“Sorry,” Bruce said quickly, “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“No, this is priceless,” Dick exclaimed. “I would pay you to provide a running commentary on all the crime shows on TV. It’s hilarious.” He waggled his eyebrows at Bruce. “And was that the second time you apologized to me in the last ten minutes? That must be a record!”

The look on Bruce face was so out of character that Dick could have burst out laughing again. It looked like he was actually smiling to himself. Dick wondered fleetingly when the last time was that Bruce had a genuine conversation about something other than work. It made Dick a little sad. 

Maybe Bruce was just lonely.

The two watched _CSI_ in companionable silence for a few more minutes until the next commercial break. Bruce cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“I thought you might be staying at Barbara’s tonight.”

_What?_

“Nah, we just had dinner last night,” Dick looked curiously at him. “She’s pretty busy.”

A strange look flashed across Bruce’s face, and Dick had a sudden thought.

“You know we broke up a while ago, right?” Dick asked slowly. “We’re just friends now.”

“No,” Bruce cleared his throat again. “I hadn’t heard. How…how is your social life?”

Dick was stunned. He could probably count the number of times Bruce had ever asked him about his “social life” on one hand. He beamed excitedly at Bruce, who now looked like he wished he hadn’t asked.

“It’s good! Well, as good as can be expected,” he blabbed while Bruce watched him warily. “Work at the precinct takes up most of my time, not to mention my job as Nightwing, which is the priority, obviously. But I manage. Actually…”

He paused, unsure of himself. Should he tell Bruce about Aaron? Alfred knew that Dick had dated a few men in the past, but he had no idea if the butler had ever told Bruce. For some reason Dick had the sneaking suspicion that Bruce wouldn’t appreciate hearing the details of any of his sexcapades, especially with other men. Maybe he could just mention it in passing.

“Actually…?” Bruce prompted.

_Fuck it, just tell him._

“Yeah, actually I’ve been out with my landlady a few times, she was nice,” Dick continued. “And my partner Amy is great, her and her husband have been really welcoming to me, even introduced me to this lawyer guy I started seeing—”

To say that Bruce’s demeanor changed would be an understatement. As soon as Dick mentioned Aaron, Bruce’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he shifted his entire body towards Dick. Dick fought the urge to look away. The gaze Bruce was giving him was nothing less than piercing.

“Who is this you’re dating?” Bruce asked, his voice much lower. He sounded almost sinister.

_Oh shit,_ Dick thought. _He had no idea._

“Um, no, we’re not really dating,” Dick explained awkwardly. “Bruce, I didn’t…we don’t have to talk about this if—”

“No. It’s not that,” Bruce said quickly, and to Dick’s surprise he shifted even closer. “I didn’t know you…dated other men, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I just worry.”

_You do?_

Dick wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Bruce’s deep blue eyes were looking searchingly into his in an almost…protective way. He wondered why Bruce was so concerned. Should he be insulted? He could clearly take care of himself. 

“Okay,” Dick gave him a small smile. “And I’m a big boy now, I can handle it.”

Bruce looked away and said nothing. 

He had to admit, though, that it was really nice that Bruce actually wanted to look out for him, that he was so protective. And with Bruce this close to him, Dick couldn’t help but notice how nice he smelled. Fresh and clean from his shower, but with a musky, woody scent that was just naturally his. It reminded Dick of when he was much younger, when he used to sit with Bruce in his big, fancy leather chair and read over case files together. It was an incredibly comforting smell.

“Seriously, though,” Dick said before he could stop himself. “Why would you worry?”

Bruce slowly turned back towards him, and it looked for a moment as if he was debating whether or not to say something.

“What?” Dick scooted a little closer to Bruce. “Tell me.”

“I know you can defend yourself, I’m never concerned of that,” Bruce murmured finally. “But. You’re…” he hesitated, then looked away again. “You’re a very… _handsome_ man, and I’m sure there’s many opportunities…to get hurt, and I. Well. Just be careful.”

Despite the fact that Bruce looked and sounded extremely uncomfortable saying it, Dick was extremely touched. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, and was going to say more, but then Bruce met his eyes again and the words died on his lips.

The way Bruce was gazing at him was undoubtedly a look full of attraction. Of longing. 

Of desire.

_Oh._

For a beat, neither of them moved, Dick’s hand still on Bruce’s shoulder. _CSI_ was still on, but they weren’t watching. Bruce’s face, which before had looked so tired and worried, now looked alive in a way he had never seen before. Dick’s heard his breath catch as Bruce reached up to touch his face…

…and then immediately pulled away, his face closing off. He stood up. _No,_ Dick thought. _Wait a minute._

“It’s late. We should go to bed.” Bruce turned towards the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bruce,” Dick said, alarmed, “Wait—” 

“Good night, Dick.”

And he was gone, up the stairs quicker and quieter than Dick could have imagined.  
Dick turned back towards the television, lost in thought. He could read body language and facial expressions as well as anyone, and he knew what he saw. But it seemed impossible to believe. Was Bruce really attracted to him? Was he really concerned about his well being in his relationships, or was he just jealous?

_No,_ a little voice in his head said. _This is just your Wayne Kink talking, your childhood fantasies playing out in real life. Get a grip, Grayson._

But Dick knew that couldn’t be completely true. Regardless of how he was feeling—how he felt—about Bruce, there was something very different about the way Bruce was acting.

Maybe he had been wrong all these years. Maybe Bruce hadn’t been angry with him, or disappointed with him, or dismissive of him, for no reason.

Maybe…it was something else.

*

That night, Bruce dreamed.

He dreamt of Dick, as he sometimes did, but it was different than usual.

Dick was sprawled naked on a large bed, Bruce’s bed, his lithe muscles rippling under his tan skin invitingly as he shifted. He met Bruce’s eyes.

_Come here,_ Dick said. _Come to bed with me._

Bruce tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t open. Tried to move, but his feet were frozen to the ground.

Another man, a man whose face he could not see, walked past Bruce and crawled into bed instead. Dick smiled invitingly at him.

_No,_ Bruce tried to say, _Stop. He’s mine._

But the man didn’t stop. He had shed his clothes, and he was kissing Dick now and Dick was moaning as the man kissed his neck and ran his hands all over that beautiful body.

Bruce watched in horror as the man pleasured Dick with his mouth, Dick fisting the sheets, his head tossed back. The soft cries he was making warmed Bruce to his core.

Bruce saw the faceless man flip Dick over, and start working him apart with his fingers. The noises Dick was making now were ones of agonized pleasure, as Bruce struggled harder to break free, to get to Dick.

And now the man had entered him, and Dick was groaning as the man pounded into him, his balls slapping Dick’s ass with an obscene, erotic sound. Dick’s eyes were no longer closed, but instead looking straight at Bruce, filled with lust.

_He’s mine,_ Bruce thought, but his voice was not his own. _He’s mine._

And suddenly Bruce was the Bat, and the man was gone and he was the one crawling onto the bed with purpose. Dick’s skin was like fire under his hands, his body molded completely into his, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He was making love to Dick, _fucking_ Dick into the mattress, and Dick’s cries were growing more urgent and passionate, until—

And then Bruce was on the outside looking in once more. But it wasn’t a faceless man he was watching claim Dick. It was the Bat, grotesque and brutish and _forceful_ and Bruce watched, terrified, as It bit down hard on Dick’s skin and Dick _moaned._

“Stop!”

The Bat turned around slowly at Bruce’s words, and he could see blood dripping down It’s fangs. 

Bruce woke up with a start, drenched in sweat and heart beating out of his chest. He collapsed back in his bed, breathing hard, with his hand over his eyes.

He needed to stop this. 

Now. 

Before he did something he would really regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for all your comments & kudos! I really appreciate it.
> 
> I had a little bit of trouble with this chapter, but it's finally out! It kind of got away from me a bit, but it all leads up to the final chapter, which I will hopefully finish soon. Let me know what you think!


	4. Just Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter turned out to be much, much longer than I had planned! Since it's taking me so long to write it (and I don't want to rush myself) I split it in half. Chapter 4 is up right now (obviously) and Chapter 5 (the conclusion) will be up tomorrow! Happy reading :D

“My word, sir. You’re up quite early.”

Bruce nodded wearily as he sat down at the table in the breakfast nook, which was right off of the kitchen. It was 7:30 a.m., and he was exhausted. “I decided to go to the board meeting this morning after all, Alfred.” He took a generous sip from the huge mug of coffee that the butler put down in front of him.

“I think that’s a good idea, sir, but I must say I’m surprised you’re going to make it,” Alfred called from the stove where he was cooking an omelette. “I thought your intention was to try and catch up on your rest.”

_Not anymore._

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bruce admitted, and left it at that. Alfred, clearly sensing Bruce’s lingering fatigue, finished cooking his breakfast in silence. Bruce stared blearily at the morning’s newspaper and tried to read the latest headlines, but he couldn’t focus at all.

He kept thinking of the young man currently asleep upstairs, the man who had been so understanding with him. How Dick had talked to him last night, laughingly and teasingly and so _openly_ , was a wonderful surprise to Bruce, all things considered. But then again, it really wasn’t. Dick always seemed to know when Bruce needed him most. It made him believe that maybe, just maybe, Dick would want to be there for him. In all ways.

Bruce thought of Dick’s beautiful, genuine smile again, that special grin that Bruce hadn’t seen directed his way in a very long time. It made him indescribably happy to have Dick look at him like that. 

_But you’re not satisfied with just_ looking _at him, are you?_

And then the dream from last night came back to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this to him. He had to look at the situation logically. Even if Dick was responsive, maybe if he even wanted him too, Bruce knew he would somehow damage him emotionally. Corrupt him. And he didn’t want to hurt Dick anymore than he already had. That was the best-case scenario.

The worst-case…Bruce had given that plenty of thought. Dick would be disgusted with him, horrified that his guardian had lusted after him like the lecherous man he was. He would never speak to him again. He would ever give him that smile again. And the last faint, hopeful light of Bruce’s life would be permanently gone. 

He couldn’t let it happen. 

“Master Bruce?” a concerned Alfred asked as he set down a plate of food in front of Bruce. “Are you all right, sir?”

Bruce opened his eyes and realized he had been rubbing his temples rather vigorously. He shook his head to clear it.

“Fine, Alfred. Just tired,” Bruce grumbled. He bit into his wheat toast, and instantly realized he wasn’t hungry at all. He waited for Alfred to retreat back into the kitchen, as he usually did, but it seemed he had more to say.

“Did you see master Richard last night, sir? He was still up when I went to bed.”

Bruce just nodded.

“He informed me you didn’t want him patrolling last night, which I thought was very interesting,” Alfred went on, “Seeing as young master Timothy isn’t here. I figured you would appreciate the company.”

“I _can_ work alone, Alfred. Sometimes I need to.” 

“I see,” Alfred said, but Bruce knew that he didn’t 'see' at all. “Well it’s a shame you couldn’t spend more time with him. I’m sure he told you he must return to Bludhaven tonight.”

Bruce instantly felt his heart drop. 

“No, I thought he was—” Bruce heard the panic in his voice and tried again. “Isn’t he leaving tomorrow?”

Alfred shook his head. “He told me last night he has to be in earlier on Monday morning than he anticipated,” he gave Bruce an infuriatingly knowing look. “He also told me that since Timothy will be returning to Gotham late this afternoon, he will be spending some time with him before he must leave.”

Bruce stared back down at his still-full plate. 

“Please finish your breakfast, Master Bruce. We’ll leave in twenty minutes.” And with that, Alfred swept back into the kitchen.

Bruce pushed his food away. He should be relieved that Dick was leaving, but instead he felt a huge surge of disappointment. Stupid, Bruce thought. Even though you know this can’t continue, you keep your hopes up. You wanted to see him again. What did you think was going to happen?

He drained his coffee and tried to calm himself down. At least he could go to work and be distracted for the day. Hopefully it would be just the thing he needed.

*

Though he busied himself at the office, Bruce’s mood predictably did not improve. It only grew worse throughout the day, and by the time evening fell his demeanor was so poor that Alfred tried to make him take the night off. 

“I’m concerned, sir,” the butler stated insistently. “This is a fair bit worse than your usual brooding. Might I suggest-”

“ _No_ , Alfred,” Bruce snarled, and immediately regretted it. He was sure he deserved the criticism for one thing, and for another Alfred most certainly did not deserve to be berated by him. He sighed. “Alfred, I’m—” 

“ _Bruce_ ,” Alfred said thinly, the lack of prefix deeply telling, “If you won’t heed my advice, then at least don’t let poor Timothy suffer your displeasure.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the cave, and Bruce wondered if he would be gone for the rest of the night. He couldn’t blame him.

He was acting like a child.

_There’s a way to stop this._

But he wouldn’t want it. 

_That may not be true. He’s been with other men._

He won’t want me. How could he want _me?_

_You saw how he looked at you last night._

He looks at everyone that way.

He’s leaving tonight.

I can’t.

Bruce was gripping the arm of his chair so hard he thought it might break. It was as if he was fighting a battle within himself, and there was no question that he was losing. Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the arm, and this time it really did crack.

Sonofabitch. Alfred was probably right; it wouldn’t be fair to take Tim on patrol tonight, not when he was acting this way.

“Call Robin,” Bruce murmured, and his computer instantly started dialing Tim’s cell phone.

“Bruce?” Tim answered. “What’s up? Am I supposed to be at the cave right now?”

“No,” Bruce said. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t need you tonight. I’ll patrol alone.”

“Oh,” Tim sounded surprised. “Are you sure? It’s seriously no problem…”

“I’m sure,” Bruce said evenly. “Just come in tomorrow. Spend time with your family.”

“I saw Dick today,” Tim said quickly before Bruce could hang up. “Actually, he just left. He said that he didn’t get to see you much.”

“Hn.”

“…so. Um. I just figured you must have been busy, or something,” Tim said haltingly. “And I hadn’t heard from you, so…so I just wanted to ask if everything’s cool.”

Bruce almost smiled. He knew Tim thought his lack of communication was because he was working hard on a case, in danger, or was compromised in someway. He would never guess the real reason why Bruce was acting more distant than usual.

“I’m fine.” Bruce paused. “But thank you.”

“Huh? I mean, you’re welcome,” Tim blurted. An embarrassed pause followed, then, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bruce.”

“All right, Tim,” Bruce said simply. “End call.”

The computer shut the call off, and Bruce stared down at his gloved hands, lost in thought. As good a detective as Tim was turning out to be, he probably wouldn’t come to a conclusion on his own, wouldn’t realize just how sick his partner really was.

_But Dick could come to that conclusion, if he hasn’t already. It’s just a matter of time._

Bruce gritted his teeth and pushed away from his computer. 

It was time to go on patrol.

*

It’s warm again.

No, warm was the wrong word. It was swelteringly _hot_ , the air in the city so thick it was almost hard to breathe. But it wouldn’t stop him. Not any night, but especially not tonight, not when he was itching for a fight, anxious for a release.

Unfortunately for him, Gotham had other ideas.

Besides stopping an attempted jewelry store theft and breaking up a few muggings, Batman hadn’t had much to do on patrol. So he kept moving, never staying still for too long, never letting his thoughts catch up with him.

Batman paused on top of a warehouse facing the docks of Gotham Harbor. There was a large shipment of foreign tech coming in tonight, and although he hadn’t picked up on any possible problems stemming from it, he figured he should survey the area just to be sure.

As he watched the dock workers load crate after crate onto the large cargo trucks, he checked to make sure they were going to the right place. A scan of a truck indicated that they were indeed the company trucks, and the scanner in his cowl reported that the men he saw worked at the docks. Batman shut off his scanner agitatedly. Perhaps it was time to keep moving—

_No, why now…_

He felt more than heard a presence land behind him on the rooftop, and his heart rate immediately sped up. He knew who it was. 

“ _There_ you are.” Nightwing called out softly. 

Batman didn’t turn around. He didn’t even acknowledge his former sidekick, but he also didn’t move from his surveillance position. He stayed still until he felt Nightwing crouch next to him.

He couldn't ignore the small feeling of excitement stirring within him. He thought his ward had already left...

“So what have we got over here?” the playful voice asked, much closer. Batman finally allowed himself to glance over at Nightwing, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. The younger man was so close they were almost touching, and though he couldn’t see his eyes through the mask lenses, his face was kind and open, a smile on his lips. Batman couldn’t tear his eyes away from those lips.

“How did you find me?” was the first thing out of his mouth, and he wanted to smack himself. _How do you_ think _he found you?_

Nightwing gave him a bemused look. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not that hard to track down.” He turned his attention back to the docks, a smirk forming on his face. “Well, at least not for me.”

Batman considered his options. He could admonish his ward again, tell him to get out of his city, and risk the man being angry, or even worse, hurt. And with the hurt and anger would come the questions. He didn’t want Nightwing interrogating him about his actions last night. 

Or he could let him stay. Nightwing would probably just be pleased to be allowed to patrol with him, wouldn’t bother him with uncomfortable questions. That could work.

A beat of silence passed, then, “Robin told me you wanted to patrol alone tonight,” Nightwing shifted a little next to him, and their arms grazed together ever so slightly. “I know you asked me not to come out here, but I figured—”

“You can stay.”

Nightwing looked startled for a brief moment, then a wide grin broke out on his face. “Oh, yeah? Okay then,” he said cheerfully, and shifted once more. 

Batman noticed that when their arms touched again, Nightwing didn’t move away. He pretended he wasn’t aware of it. He could barely feel his touch through the suit, but it felt so _nice_ to have the younger man this close to him.

“So is it all going well here?” Nightwing asked lightly. “Seems pretty dead.”

“There doesn’t appear to be any suspicious activity, no,” Batman agreed. “But the tech is valuable. It can’t hurt to stay a while longer.”

“The whole night’s been this way?”

Batman nodded once, his eyes on the cargo.

“So why didn’t you take Robin out?”

Batman looked over at that, and Nightwing had turned to face him fully now, the touch of his arm gone. He looked confused.

“What do you—?”

“I would’ve thought,” Nightwing cleared his throat. “That you would want to take Robin out on a slow night like this. It’s the perfect night for a partner patrol. You know, to work on basics, do some scouting, have a little _fun_ ,” he paused, then in a softer voice added, “Like you used to do with me.”

Batman did not like the sudden change of tone in Nightwing’s voice. 

“Things have changed since you were Robin,” Batman tried to keep his voice low, but he couldn’t help a little anger seep through. “And the last time I checked, _I_ am the one who makes these decisions. Not you.”

He couldn’t have sounded more like a petulant child if he tried. Regardless, Batman still wouldn’t concede to this type of conversation. He stood to move further down the rooftop to a more secluded area, but Nightwing, who rose as well, followed him.

“That may be, but Robin and I aren’t the only one’s who think you’re acting strange,” Nightwing’s voice had a definitively harder edge to it now. “I talked to Alfred today and he’s—” 

Batman whipped around, startling the younger man. 

“I’m _fine_ , Nightwing.” He made his voice as menacing as he dared, but in truth _he_ was the one who was scared. It was almost as if a wall was crashing down inside him, the voice that told him to act growing louder and louder.

“You’re not,” Nightwing, who had simply looked concerned a moment before, now looked purely frustrated. “And I don’t understand why you’re not telling me what’s wrong.” He stepped closer, so close their chests were almost touching.

_No. No, no, no, get_ away.

If he reached out right now, he could touch that gorgeous face, smooth his thumb over those lips. Move his fingers through his hair. Kiss him.

“I don’t tell you everything,” Batman snarled before he could think. “ _You_ don’t need to know _everything_.” 

“So is this about something _I_ did?” Nightwing’s clearly agitated voice rose. “If it is, then yeah, you should fucking tell me!”

“Keep your voice down,” Batman hissed. His heart was pounding in his chest now, and he was so close to him…

_Do it._

Batman turned on his heel and reached toward his belt. He had to get off this rooftop. As he grasped the grapple, however, Nightwing’s hand grabbed his arm and forcefully spun him around. 

“ _No_ ,” Nightwing’s face was determined, angry, and—Batman’s heart sank—hurt. “Don’t walk away from me. Tell me what I did and I’ll…I’ll leave, okay? But don’t turn your back on me.”

_Tell him._

Bruce looked at him and said nothing.

“You’ve barely talked to me these past few days,” Nightwing was speaking so quietly that Batman practically had to lean in to hear him. “I don’t…” he trailed off, and Batman was acutely aware of Nightwing’s hand still firmly holding his bicep. “I don’t want to lose what we’ve rebuilt.” 

“We won’t,” came Batman’s reply. His voice sounded hoarse and desperate and trapped, even to him. “We won’t.” he tried again, with finality. He could barely meet the younger man’s eyes, and Nightwing’s face was awash with doubt.

**Do** _something!_

Batman attempted one last time to turn away, and opened his mouth to _insist_ that they move on, continue patrol, to do anything else—

“Bruce.”

He said it so softly that Batman himself barely heard it. But he did hear it, and the use of his name while on patrol and in uniform sent a jolt down his spine. He was so close to him now. He looked at that beautiful face again, feeling his willpower slip further and further.

“You shouldn’t call me that in the field.”

“Bruce, come on,” Despite his still-frustrated expression, Nightwing gave a little half-smile. “It’s just us up here.” He moved his hand up to Batman’s shoulder. “Just us.” He gripped his shoulder harder.

It was the shoulder squeeze that did it. In a flash it brought Batman back to the night before. The way the glow of the television illuminated Dick’s face in the dark. The sweet, understanding expression he was wearing. Those pretty lips curved into a reassuring smile…

_Just us._

“You’re right.”

“I’m—what?” the younger man looked astonished.

“I haven’t been fair,” Batman put his hand on his shoulder. “To Robin, or Alfred, or anyone. But I’ve mostly been unfair to you.” He let his hand trail up the man’s shoulder, grazing his neck lightly, before settling at the nape, his thumb resting on his jaw line. “And there’s...a reason.”

To his credit, Nightwing didn’t move away. He simply kept that look of dumfounded surprise on his face, his lips parted slightly as if to ask a question. 

“But…I…don’t know how to say this,” Batman trailed off. How could he tell him? How could he possibly articulate that he desired this man, had wanted him for so long that it was driving him crazy? How could he tell him? 

And Batman realized, as he looked down at that beautiful face which wore the expression of a man slowly realizing the obvious, that he already had. 

He was completely exposed. And it was terrifying.

“Bruce,” Nightwing finally spoke, his tone unreadable. “Do you—”

**BOOM**.

_Shit._

Batman wrenched away from Nightwing and whipped his head around. There was an explosion coming from one of the trucks, and gunfire rang out through the night. 

Batman turned back towards Nightwing. When he met his ward’s eyes his heart dropped. The expression on his face was something akin to stunned horror, and he was looking back and forth from the explosion to Batman.

“I’m—” Batman started. _I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to do that? I’m an idiot?_ He tried in vain to lower his heart rate, to calm himself down, to get back to business, but that _look_ Nightwing was giving him…

“We have to go.” He turned down towards the chaos below, and surveyed the scene as quickly as he could. His heart was still hammering out of his chest. “Take the crew out by the trucks. I’ll get the one’s on the boat.” He turned toward Nightwing, who still looked shocked. 

“Nightwing. Now.” 

The man looked up at him, and his expression was so confused, and it made Batman _hate_ himself, but still he nodded. “Got it, boss.” 

Batman watched as he jumped down from the roof and sprinted towards the fray. This was exactly what he was afraid of. He knew Nightwing—Dick—wouldn’t want this. He was disgusted with Batman. 

He had forced his feelings on him. 

They could never go back. 

What had he _done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Bruce is such a mess, don't you think? But he tries. Please let me know what you think!


	5. Please Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head.

Twenty-five minutes later and the attempted robbery was neutralized. Aside from a few nasty cuts and bruises, both Batman and Nightwing were fine. Still, as Dick was busy securing the criminals, it was painfully obvious that Batman was keeping his distance. In fact, he hadn’t come within five yards of him since the fight began. So it was somewhat surprising when Dick looked up from tying a knot to see Batman looming over him.

“Nightwing. You can head out, I’ll wait here for Commissioner Gordon.”

“I’ll wait with you,” Dick stood up and placed his hands on his hips. “I haven’t seen the Commish in a while. I figure I should say hello.”

That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it, but Dick had to finish the… _conversation_ that they had started. He wanted to hear, from Batman’s own lips, what _exactly_ had been bothering him so much.

Although he had a pretty good idea, he couldn’t believe that it was true. 

“No. I need to talk to Gordon alone,” Batman’s voice sounded deep and commanding as usual, but Dick could see the worry lines on his face. That was as good an indication as any that he was freaked about something. And the ‘talk to Gordon alone’ excuse? Bullshit.

“Bullshit,” Dick said simply.

One of the tied-up thugs gasped in awe, and Batman shot him a murderous look.

“Nightwing.” Batman turned his gaze back to him. His face still looked troubled, but now it had an exhausted, weary quality to it. “Go back to Bludhaven, I can handle things from here.” 

_But what about…_

_But I thought you were going to…_

_But we we’re just…_

Dick stared, open-mouthed and disappointed, at his mentor. He should have known better. With Bruce, opportunities to actually have an open conversation left as quickly as they came. So of course, when he was finally going to get some answer, fate had to intervene. Naturally.

“Alright,” Dick nodded shortly. “I’ll see you later, Batman.” 

Batman said nothing, but he saw his fists clench tightly as he ran past him, grappling up towards a building across the street. A few blocks later he reached his bike, hidden in an alley. He started the engine and peeled off southbound towards Bludhaven. Another wasted visit with Bruce, another failed attempt to get his mentor to open up. 

But.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given up so easily. He knew what he saw. He could read people almost as well as Batman himself. It was just so hard to believe that the secret desire he had kept squirreled away since adolescence—that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy and secretly the Batman—wanted him, Dick Grayson, his _ward_.

Just saying it in his head made it sound crazy. But it was true, and if there was one thing Dick knew, it was his own emotions. When Batman had stroked his cheek with his gauntlet-covered hand and that sexy, inquisitive look on his face…he had realized that he wanted to live out his childhood fantasy, be it a single kiss, a one-night mistake or a full-blown affair. 

He wanted it. Badly.

He immediately changed his course and headed northbound through Gotham instead of away from it. If there was another thing he knew for sure, it was that he was good at disobeying orders. 

Bludhaven could wait.

*

 

Bruce pulled the Batmobile into the cave. He didn’t know exactly how long he’d been sitting there, engine off, just thinking. He could no longer stop his mind from running full-speed, couldn’t prevent his anger at himself from overtaking him. The beast inside him roared its disapproval.

He had him. He could have explained everything right then and there, left it all on the table. Or he could have just kissed him. For once, he could have let his heart overrule his head and just went for it. But instead he had made him leave. Bruce had never figured himself for a coward, but he was certainly acting like one now.

He opened the door of the car and stepped out with great effort. He wasn’t in physical pain, or even too fatigued, but mentally he felt exhausted. Maybe it was for the best that he had made the man leave, Bruce thought, peeling back his cowl. Everything he had swore he wouldn’t say, he had, and Dick had looked too shocked to even speak. He didn’t even know if they could have a straightforward conversation again, and now—

Bruce stopped dead. 

_What is his bike doing here?_

Wordlessly, he looked past Nightwing’s bike towards the computer area of the cave. He could feel his heartbeat speed up once more, and he felt foolish. Did he dare get his hopes up again?

“You sure take your time.”

There, leaning up against a medical table, was Dick, looking more solemn than Bruce would have liked. His mask and gloves were off, but the rest of the costume was still in place, hugging every generous curve and tight muscle of his body. Bruce wondered how pathetic he must have looked to Dick, with his hair mussed from the cowl and worn down and _defeated_. But maybe Dick didn’t care. After all, he was here. 

He had come back.

“You were supposed to go home, Dick.” His voice had none of the authority and command it usually did, he could tell that much. He knew Dick could tell, too, because he straightened up and walked casually over to him.

“And I _did_ go home,” Dick still wasn’t smiling, his bright blue eyes flashing with mischief. “I’m pretty sure I was needed here.”

“Hm,” was all Bruce could manage. He was still rooted to the spot.

“Yep,” Dick agreed. He was a pro at interpreting Bruce’s shorthand. He stopped in front of Bruce and considered him for a moment, a small frown on his face. Bruce waited for him to question him, or yell at him, or touch him, or _something_. But he just stood.

“That looks like it hurts,” Dick said at last, pointing to something on Bruce’s left hand. “Do you think you’ll need stitches?” He looked down in surprise and noticed a small gash oozing blood through his glove. He hadn’t noticed it.

“I’ll have Alfred look at it,” Bruce allowed quietly. 

“He went to bed,” Dick said softly, and Bruce gave a start as the younger man picked up his hand and gently pulled off his gauntlet. As he gently touched the long cut on his finger Bruce gave a sharp intake of breath—not from the pain, but from Dick’s skin on his. Dick looked up at him sympathetically. 

“Come on,” Dick grabbed his wrist lightly and pulled him over to the medical table. “Let’s get this sewed up.”

“I can do it myself,” Bruce protest weakly as Dick all but shoved him on the table and pulled up a chair. “Really, it’s—”

He trailed off as Dick cast him a look from under those smoky, sultry lashes. He could feel the breath of the younger man hot on is skin as he held Bruce’s finger closer to his face and began applying a disinfectant.

“I know you don’t really want to finish our conversation from before.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked back to Dick’s face, but the man was looking determinedly at Bruce’s finger. He watched, unmoving, as Dick finished disinfecting and started to sew his skin together. From this angle, he was looking down the side of his neck, and he had an insane urge to lean down and bite it. 

“And that’s fine, Bruce. I know you’re worried about what to say to me. And I know the reason why.”

Bruce felt his mouth go dry. He could feel his knee-jerk reaction to flee or make some kind of gracious exit kick in, but he couldn’t move. Dick’s torso was pressed up against Bruce’s thigh, and the contact seemed to burn through Bruce’s suit. 

“Dick—”

“Let me talk,” Dick pulled a stitch rather harshly through Bruce’s skin, and the older man winced. “Anyway. It seems to me that…” another stitch through his skin “you’ve spent a lot of time…” yet another stitch “thinking about what you want. And what would be best for you.” He started to tie off a little knot at the edge of the wound, then paused and looked up. “What would be best for _us._ ”

Bruce stared at him. His mouth was now completely dry, his heart hammering out of his chest. _Whatareyoudoingwhatareyou_ saying…

“I respect all that,” Dick looked down as he finished tying the small knot. “I do. And I appreciate that you think you’re looking out for me.” He reached for the tube of antiseptic liquid and rubbed some lightly across Bruce’s finger. “But have you ever really considered…” he looked back up into his eyes again, and this time Bruce could see there was no hint of amusement. He was deadly serious.

“…Have you ever considered what _I_ want? That maybe I want this too?”

Bruce could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He couldn’t help the bubble of hope rising in his chest, or the beast inside of him that roared its approval. Dick finally smiled at him as he finished rubbing on the antiseptic.

“There,” he whispered. “All better.” He pressed the tip of Bruce’s thick finger to his lips and kissed it ever so softly. He stood up, Bruce’s hand still resting in his.

“Dick,” He tried to make that single word a plea, a question, and a warning all in one, and he knew Dick didn’t miss it. Heat was pooling almost embarrassingly quickly into Bruce’s groin, and the very last of his self-control was ebbing away. “I think you—”

“See, that’s the thing,” Dick breathed, curling Bruce’s large hand into a fist. “No matter what you may think I want, you don’t get to decide for me. I make my own choices.” 

He grazed his lips, s l o w l y, along Bruce’s knuckles, applying pressure slightly on the last one. He smiled wider at the shocked look on Bruce’s face. He stepped as close as he dared, right in-between Bruce’s legs.

“Feel better?” he asked, and the way he said it was so seductive that Bruce didn’t have a prayer of forming a verbal response. 

So instead, Bruce simply leaned forward and kissed him. 

_Finally._

The first kiss was tentative, sweet, _teasing_. Not at all how either of them had imagined it. Bruce simply brushed his lips against Dick’s, his eyes still open, Dick’s free hand resting on the breastplate on Bruce’s suit. 

Dick let out a small, relieved sigh, his breath mixing with Bruce’s, their noses bumping lightly together as he kissed him back, longer this time. Bruce disentangled his hand from Dick’s and snaked it around the younger man’s waist, pulling him closer, while his other hand moved up into his lush (albeit slightly sweaty) hair and cradled his cheek. 

Dick was breathing very fast, and Bruce realized for the first time that he was probably just as nervous as he was.

Their next few kisses were slow and deliberate, as if to test potentially treacherous waters before diving in. Dick’s lips were very soft, and he tasted fresh and sweet, like mint and honey and something that was all his own. 

Dick bit down lightly on Bruce’s lips. The older man moaned quietly and nearly pulled Dick into his lap in an effort to deepen the kiss. He felt Dick shudder, and with an agonized thrill realized that he could feel his erection pressing up against his thigh. 

“This,” Bruce panted as he broke off the kiss, leaning back reluctantly from Dick, “This is a bad idea.”

“I don’t…think so,” Dick’s eyes, which had been full of assuredness before, now were hazy with desire. “Bruce…” he traced his hand down Bruce’s chest and across his thigh. “Please. I want this.” Though Bruce was wearing a codpiece and armor, he could still feel Dick’s hand start to rub against his cock. “I _need_ you. I—”

That was all Bruce needed to hear. 

He moved so quickly and aggressively that Dick had no time to react. As Dick yelped in surprise, Bruce _yanked_ him onto his lap so that he was straddling him and moved them back further onto the table and kissed him. _Hungrily._

This kiss was nothing like the others. It was hot and desperate and obscene, both of them finally releasing years of pent-up sexual frustration, their tongues battling for control. Dick had now wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and had almost melted into him, grinding into his groin with fervor.

For his part, Bruce was much more free with his hands. One traveled beneath Dick’s uniform shirt (who knew it came in separate pieces?) and traveled upward. The other came to rest on Dick’s ass. He squeezed greedily, and to his surprise he felt Dick giggle into his mouth.

“What?” He drew back, surprised, and was more turned on than ever by what he saw. Dick’s lips, red and glistening from kissing, were spread into a huge smile. 

“I never figured you for an ass-man,” he grinned, and Bruce raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Don’t look at me like that! I don’t know what you like, I just would never have guessed…”

Bruce’s hard-on was straining almost painfully now against his jock. That would need to be fixed. But first things first.

Dick let out another startled exclamation as he flipped Dick off his lap and onto the table. Bruce leaned over him, and Dick blinked up at him in surprise.

“Lift you arms up,” he growled, and the smile returned on Dick’s face as he complied. Bruce made the mental note that Dick seemingly enjoyed it when Bruce was authoritative.

Bruce practically tore the uniform shirt over the man’s head and started kissing down the golden tan skin of his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Dick’s breathing was more ragged now, his boner pressing up into Bruce’s stomach. 

Bruce grazed Dick’s nipple with his lips and the man let out a soft moan. He licked it experimentally, and Dick arched his head back. “Shit…” he hissed.

Bruce grinned. Another note to file away in the mental computer of his mind. He licked and sucked at one nipple, than the other, until one of Dick’s hands was in his hair as he was making soft whimpering noises. Bruce felt his cock twitch with need and he continued downward, stopping to dip his tongue in Dick’s navel and kiss the trail of dark hair leading below…

He leaned back for a moment and, as Dick whined in protest, started to peel down Dick’s pants and briefs. Dick arched his back up to help, and somewhere along the way he had already kicked off his boots. The whole thing took about three seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Bruce, who had been waiting so long, _so_ long, to see this view.

And what a view it was. 

Dick was spread on the table completely naked, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Bruce’s eyes shot down to his cock, surrounded by a tidy thatch of dark hair and already leaking precome. His muscles tightened as he shifted under Bruce’s heated gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” Bruce breathed, and it was true. He had never looked more stunning to him. And Dick Grayson, who brimmed with self-confidence and was never bashful, actually _blushed_.

Bruce leaned over and kissed him again, sweetly this time. Dick was by no means small, but Bruce’s huge body completely engulfed his. For Dick it was such an erotic thing, knowing he could be so controlled, so dominated by this huge man in all black who was kissing him so tenderly. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

“Bruce,” he rasped as the older man kissed along his jaw line, “Is this your first time?” He immediately blushed _again_ as Bruce gave him a crazed look.

“No! I meant…with another man.”

Bruce pulled back and gave him such a serious, determined look that Dick almost giggled again. His grin faded from his face as quickly as it came when he felt a gloved hand wrap tightly around his shaft. He gasped embarrassingly loudly.

“Yes,” Bruce’s breath came hot against his ear, and Dick let out a strangled moan as the gloved hand slowly started to pump. “It is. So you’ll have to tell me,” he licked the shell of Dick’s ear, “if anything’s wrong. Okay?” Bruce looked down at Dick so much concern and affection, his hair all mussed from the cowl and Dick’s hands and his cheeks almost adorably flushed, that it rendered Dick momentarily speechless. So he just nodded.

“Good.” And he pulled even further away, and Dick was actually about to sit up to protest until Bruce’s bare hand was splayed forcefully on his chest. Dick craned his neck, trying to see what Bruce was _doing_ down there, until—

“Oh!”

Bruce kissed the head of Dick’s cock, and then slowly licked the large vein underneath, and a few more times from base to head. The moans that emerged from the younger man’s mouth when he did so made him grin. The position he was in wasn’t too comfortable, however, as he was hunched awkwardly over his cock. He moved his hand off of Dick’s chest so he could sit the heavily panting boy up on the edge of the table and got down on his knees. 

He kissed inside the man’s hips a few times (which made Dick gnaw down on his lip to keep from crying out), licked his slit lightly, and then took him in his mouth and almost swallowed him down, down, _down_.

“Sh-shit! Bruce, _God_ …”

Dick wasn’t surprised that Bruce Wayne, the most determined and focused man he knew, was really fucking great at giving head. But watching him (still in his Batman costume, for chrissake!) lick and suck and even _moan_ around his cock like he really enjoyed was nearly too much for Dick to handle. Soon he was crying out and nearly thrusting into Bruce’s mouth, and the older man hand to put his hand on Dick’s waist to hold him down. 

Bruce could feel Dick’s fingers in his hair again. He kept looking up and making eye contact with the man, who was panting and flushed in a way that Bruce couldn’t get enough of. He hollowed out his cheeks and _sucked_ , slowing down his pace to almost a torturously slow pace that had Dick bucking up again.

“Please…” Dick pleaded, “Bruce, _please_!” he was so close to a release now, and he knew if Bruce could, he’d be grinning devilishly at him right now. Dick whimpered pathetically as Bruce pulled off of him with a lewd _pop!_ and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Bruce…” Dick panted, and his eyes almost rolled back in his head as Bruce licked the vein again and squeezed his balls with his gloved hand. “ _Fuck_.”

At that, Bruce really did grin, and to Dick’s shock and immense pleasure he proceeded to swallow Dick down _whole_. Bruce heard Dick cry out louder than ever, and felt the younger man’s cock twitch violently and cum splash in his mouth. 

Bruce, at first at a complete loss as to what to do, reluctantly swallowed it and wiped his mouth. Dick was blessed out on the table, his chest heaving, body glistening gorgeously with sweat. 

Bruce leaned next to him on the table and watched as Dick came back to earth. The huge smile on his face made Bruce’s cock twitch even more urgently, but he tried to ignore it. This was all about Dick’s pleasure, what _he_ wanted. Bruce could satisfy himself later if he needed to.

He leaned down and kissed Dick, who kissed him tenderly back. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. You’re not such an amateur after all, huh?” he laughed, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel a little proud. 

He stood. “So. Um. I’ll just go wash up—” 

He stopped at the mischievous, somewhat greedy look Dick was giving him. 

“We’re not done yet,” he said slowly, sounding as if was finally starting to come down from his high. “It’s my turn.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—”

“Take off your clothes, Bruce.”

He pushed up off from the table and reached around Bruce, undoing the hidden clasp that helped him get out of his suit. He pulled the top over his head and Bruce threw it clear across the room, which made Dick laugh. 

Bruce stood to take off his belt, boots and pants, and as he did he saw Dick trace his many scars with his eyes. As he shed his clothing he felt slightly ashamed that this beautiful man had to look upon all these scars, all these old reminders of pain and strife, this _body_ , when it probably didn’t compare to what had come before.

So it was a something of a shock when Dick kissed him, slowly and lovingly, on all the places where he was scarred the most. He was looking at his body with something akin to adoration. Awe. Bruce stood still as Dick hopped down from the table and kissed his chest, his abdomen, his legs, each spot heightening Bruce’s arousal. 

“You’re so…” Bruce trailed off, his voice colored with lust. He was unable to find the right word, unable to articulate just how much Dick meant to him, what he was _doing_ for him, both emotionally and physically. Dick looked up at him and smiled. Kissed him affectionately on the lips.

That kiss turned into so much more, as soon the smiles and light touches were gone and their tongues were at war once more, bodies melded together, their erections grinding up against one another. Bruce was panting rather heavily now as he palmed Dick’s ass greedily. He needed some kind of release.

“Fuck me,” Dick moaned into his ear, as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. “Please fuck me, Bruce…”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bruce said seriously, but he was sure his body had just massively betrayed how excited he was at that idea. “And…not here…”

Dick jerked his head in the direction of the small cot that Bruce napped on and reached around Bruce to grab something off of a medical tray. Bruce saw it was lube. “Over there, then,” Dick murmured. “And you won’t hurt me. Bruce… _please_ …”

Just as authoritativeness seemed to work wonders on Dick, soft pleas had a wonderful reaction for Bruce, and he pressed Dick flush against him in another fierce kiss, his hard-on poking his stomach tellingly. 

Dick sucked in a breath as Bruce picked him up with one arm and walked briskly over to the cot, never breaking the kiss. He settled Dick on the cot rather gently before climbing over him. His cock bobbed intimidatingly between them. Dick had never taken anyone quite so _big_ before. 

Bruce slathered a finger with lube and looked up at Dick hesitantly. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.”

Dick smiled and pulled his legs up, and breathed out harshly as Bruce teased his hole with a finger, then entered. Bruce pumped the finger cautiously at first, watching Dick’s expression closely. He looked even more beautiful than before. 

Slowly he added another lubed-up finger, and Dick hissed in pain but soon was moaning in pleasure as Bruce started pumping again.

“God, that feels good,” he breathed, and reached down to stroke Bruce’s cock, which was hot and throbbing in his hand. Who knew how good it would feel to have Bruce’s thick fingers pumping inside of him?

Bruce briefly added a third finger, and then pulled all three out with a nasty squelching sound that would’ve made them both wince if they weren’t both so turned on. Bruce pushed back Dick’s knees so they rested by his shoulders.

“Ready?” Bruce groaned, and he sounded more guttural and Bat-like than ever. Dick just nodded and wrapped a hand around his cock and guided him towards his entrance.

At first, Dick thought he simply wouldn’t fit. Bruce was _huge_ , even bigger than he initially thought. It was painful, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but as Bruce slowly slid in and peppered little kisses all over Dick’s face, he finally started to relax.

The beginning thrusts were slow, shallow and a little uncomfortable, but soon Dick was moaning again, his head tossed back on the creaking cot. He could hear Bruce’s labored breaths above him, and he opened his eyes to see his mentor looking down at him so adoringly that it made him smile again. He reached up to touch Bruce’s face, and Bruce kissed his wrist affectionately.

“You…you don’t know what you do to me,” Bruce panted, his voice deep and lusty, and Dick realized that he had probably never seen his expression this open, this emotional before. Bruce put Dick’s fingers in his mouth and _sucked_ , and Dick moaned throatily.

“My boy,” Bruce groaned into his neck as his thrusts picked up speed, “You’re goddamn perfect, _so_ beautiful,” and Dick was crying out now with every thrust as Bruce changed his angle, went deeper. Bruce bit down on his neck, hard, and sucked, and Dick was soon a moaning, wailing mess. 

Thank God for a soundproofed cave.

Bruce flipped them, with only a small amount of difficulty, so that they were both sitting up and Dick was bouncing on his lap. The look on Bruce’s face was now one of dirty, nasty pleasure, and Dick almost came just seeing him so engaged. Bossy Bruce was fantastic, but engaged, emotional Bruce was a whole new world all together.

“F-fuck, Bruce…harder. Go harder.”

Bruce slammed his hips up harder, at a different angle, and Dick screamed out in pleasure. “GOD! Yes, there, oh shit, Bruce—”

Bruce silenced him with a kiss, and it was as sloppy and passionate as they could make it.  
“God, I wanted this for so long, so long,” Bruce was saying into Dick’s mouth, moving his hand to jerk him off in time with his thrusts. “Baby, come for me. Come for me, Dick…”

Dick came with a shout, cum splattering all over their chests, and soon he was on his back again as Bruce was fucking him into the mattress, whispering hotly and nastily into his ear. It was only a few more moments before the thrusts started to grow erratic, and then he felt Bruce shudder and warmth spread inside him. Bruce collapsed, but made sure that he didn’t completely crush Dick with his weight.

They lay there, utterly spent, for a long time, just listening to each other breathing. Finally, Bruce got up on one elbow, and Dick was slightly dismayed to see he looked rather abashed.

“Are you…alright?” he asked again, and he had none of the pride from before.

“Fantastic,” Dick ran a hand up Bruce’s ridiculously muscled arms. “And exhausted.” He used the sheet between them to wipe off the fluids from Bruce’s skin.

“I’m sorry if anything I said…made you uncomfortable,” Bruce watched as Dick sat up to wipe himself down. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t say that.”

“Excuse me?” Bruce stared at him.

“You meant it, Bruce. Everything we just did you meant,” Dick tossed the soiled sheet to the ground and looked his mentor in his deep blue eyes. “And you were honest with me. That’s all I want.” He paused, and then smirked naughtily. “And maybe for you to do that thing with your tongue again.”

Bruce actually gave a small smile at that, and wrapped Dick up in a warm embrace. The two lay like that, Dick buried in Bruce’s chest, for a few more minutes in compatible, sleepy silence.

“Where does this leave us?” Bruce rumbled into Dick’s hair.

“I…don’t know,” Dick admitted. “But we don’t have to decide that now, do we?”

Bruce gave him a very sweet kiss on the forehead. “We do not.” He then frowned. “What time do you have to leave for work?”

“Um…an hour and a half,” Dick groaned. “But I’ve had less sleep. I’ll manage.”

As Dick quickly fell asleep, cuddled up right against him, Bruce planted one more whisper-soft kiss on his forehead. He had thought that, given the chance to be with Dick Grayson, he would corrupt him, damage him, hurt him. He had thought that the beast inside him would take over, emotionally, physically, or mentally. He had clearly thought wrong.

Dick had showed him, not for the first time and clearly not for the last, that he was more than the creeping darkness inside him. And although he had no idea what would happen when they woke up, he knew one thing: he was going to sleep very soundly tonight.

No more nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally up! Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing!
> 
> Please also feel free to follow me on tumblr at moonintheknight.tumblr.com !


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